


A Better Place

by vjs2259



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance, gapfiller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-19
Updated: 2009-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-10 09:51:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vjs2259/pseuds/vjs2259
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A before and after gapfiller for the big Forgiveness scene in Apotheosis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Better Place

**Author's Note:**

> S4, a Falling Toward Apotheosis gapfiller
> 
> Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words.

_Make my heart a better place._

All I Need--Within Temptation

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Here are the reports on the most recent attacks. I've consolidated them, and broken them down by type, location, and severity..." Lennier's voice trailed off as he saw Delenn's focus was elsewhere. The com was showing a repeat of Ivanova's last update on the status of the war; the planets falling to attack, the refugees streaming out of multiple systems, the chaos, the terror...all in one ritual broadcast. He paused to watch; the Commander had admirable control of her voice and face, he thought. It was important to present an illusion of control to the populace. It was actually amazing how much life went on as normal, given the events of the last few weeks.

Turning his attention to his mentor, he noted that she was returning to normal as well. Still, there was something she was attempting to control, some emotion that she had reined in tightly. He could see it in the set of her jaw, in the fine lines at the corner of her mouth, in the careful placement of her hands at her sides.

"Delenn," he began, then, as she showed no response, he took a chance and touched her shoulder gently.

She started, and turned towards him. "Yes? I am sorry, were you speaking to me, Lennier?"

He looked at her, deliberately dispassionate, and said, "The reports are ready. I believe you wished to look them over before the presentation to the War Council."

"Yes," she said again, then after a pause, "I am sure you have done your usual excellent job. Thank you. You may leave them; I will examine them shortly."

He bowed his head, took a deep breath, and made his decision. It had been burning in him since Sheridan had returned. After the initial public reunion, he had watched Delenn avoid every opportunity for private conversation with the human Captain. At first he had attributed it to the press of events, but the realization had come upon him that her maneuvers had a purpose. He had thought hard about whether to intervene; her attempts at distance might be wise. But even if her current path led her to a better place; if would not matter if she lost herself along the way.

"You should speak to Captain Sheridan," he said firmly, then added, "Privately."

Delenn looked at him, mute in surprise at first. Then, anger sparking in her voice, she asked, "What do you suppose it is that needs said?" Her tone left little doubt that she didn't care to hear his answer.

"I do not know. But whatever it is; it should be faced, sooner rather than later." He kept his face neutral. "I do not deny that I may be in error, but I ask that you consider the suggestion." Watching her carefully, he saw the thought working behind her eyes, while her face remained a neutral mask.

Walking over to the comstation, he activated the link to C&amp;C, asking to speak to Commander Ivanova. This was another potential step too far. When Ivanova's face flickered on to the screen, he said, "Commander. Excuse me for bothering you while you are on duty, but Ambassador Delenn wishes to speak with Captain Sheridan. May I inquire if the Captain is available?"

Ivanova answered quickly and efficiently, "The Captain is off duty. He left instructions he might be reached in his quarters."

"I will convey this information to Delenn. Thank you, Commander," replied Lennier.

"You're welcome. Ivanova out." The screen flickered and went dark.

Lennier lowered his head, afraid for a moment to meet Delenn's eyes. He was afraid he had badly overreached.

"I will go, Lennier."

He felt her hand brush his arm, and with a swoosh of the door, she was gone. He kept his eyes down, not wanting to see the result of his interference. Doing the right thing should bring some satisfaction, at least a subtle sense of gratification. Why then, did he feel nothing but emptiness?

*************************************

Delenn had hesitated twice; once outside John's door, and once more inside his quarters, when he had directed the conversation towards Ivanova's latest broadcast. Now, after her confession, she stood within the comfort of his embrace; convinced of his forgiveness, and glad, glad that she had come.

His return from Z'ha'dum had ended her deepest fears, and his private declaration to her on the catwalk had given her hope for the future. But still she had been afraid; afraid that once he had time to consider her deception, he would reject any further intimacy between them. Her fears had only grown as she avoided this confrontation. They had loomed larger and ever stronger in her mind, until Lennier had made her face the issue.

"Delenn?"

John's voice was low and stirred her hair like a gentle breeze. "Yes?" she said, almost wishing he had not spoken, not broken the fragile peace she had found in his arms.

"Is there somewhere you have to be?" His voice faltered on the words, then seemed to strengthen as amusement colored his next words. "Not that I want you to leave...I'd be happy to stand right here for a few more hours." He continued to gently stroke her hair, happy she had finally stopped trembling.

"There is nowhere else I need to be. Nowhere else I want to be." She looked up into his eyes, which fixed upon hers. Words were unnecessary; emotions shuttled back and forth, weaving the bond between them with look and touch.

He drew in a breath, and said, "I know this was hard for you..."

She nodded, and replied, in a voice still tinged with shame, "A lie of omission is no less a lie. I have had to do many things in the course of my life, but this...was difficult. And wrong. I know now I should have trusted you more. Perhaps I would have, if I loved you less."

 

Swallowing hard to hide the lump in his throat that arose at her simple declaration, he held her tightly. He found it hard to believe how fearful she had been when she arrived at his door. "There are many things we will never know about one another. Political secrets, perhaps even personal secrets. But you should never be afraid to tell me anything." Her eyes widened and darkened, and he tried to find the words to make her understand. "We are connected, at some deep level...what I mean is...I don't need to know any more about you than I know right now. Nothing could change how I feel."

She considered her next words carefully. "There are certainly episodes in my past that I may never be able to discuss, and those I would prefer never to discuss." A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, "I cannot however, agree that I do not need to know more about you."

It was his turn to look uncomfortable, as his mind raced over several things he couldn't tell her, not yet, and a few more that he never wanted to think about again. He asked, "What exactly did you have in mind?"

She answered with a kiss that would have knocked him to the floor, if he hadn't taken a strong hold on her to steady himself. Passion swept through him and he lost track of time, and place--of everything not related to how he felt right then, at that moment. Living in the moment had never had more appeal.

Briefly pulling away, he shook his head as if to clear it, and pronouncing the words carefully, asked, "How exactly do you do that?"

"Do what?" she replied absently, as she pressed against him, reaching behind him to caress his back and shoulders. It was strange how secure she felt, how safe after the uncertainty.

"Stop time." His voice was incredulous, but his eyes were laughing, "The station's central cylinder may have even stopped rotating. I'm pretty sure we lost gravity for a minute or two."

"I will keep hold, and make sure you do not float away," she replied with a smile. Then her face grew serious. "I was going to ask you something."

Matching her intensity, he nodded. "Something you need to know about me, right? Shoot."

At her momentary look of confusion, he laughed. "I mean, go ahead and ask. Anything," then he quickly qualified his answer, "Almost anything."

Smiling, she snaked her hands back between their bodies, and placed her palms flat against his chest. "In human rituals, that is, human mating rituals...what would we be likely to do, at this point?"

Flushing bright red, he stared at her, then stammered, "Right now? Or do you mean, at this point in our relationship?"

"Yes, what level of physical interaction would be appropriate?" Moving her hands down his body to his waist, she awaited his answer, wondering if there was a more direct way to get at what she wanted.

"I, that is, we, I mean people who were this involved, would probably have been physically, um, intimate...at this point." He tried to remain casual, but his interest, and other things, were considerably aroused by her line of questioning.

"I see," she said. Smoothing the lines of his sweater under her hands, trying not to imagine what lay beneath the soft fabric, she continued calmly,, "As I told you, it is important to me that we follow Minbari ritual in these matters. It occurs to me however, that this is somewhat unfair. Attention must be paid to your rituals, as well." Keeping things light wasn't working; she was aware of every point at which their bodies touched, and it wasn't enough--not nearly enough, not any more. She moved one hand back up to gently touch his face. "I almost lost you once. Even when you came back, I was still afraid I had lost you. Soon, we will engage in a battle which will be both arduous and dangerous. I want...before that, I would like..."

"Delenn, you don't have to do this. You have me, body and soul, no matter what else happens between us. I told you, I'll never leave you again." Pain filled his voice. He hadn't told her everything, including the true outcome of his fall. He wondered if his omission, even if temporary, would count as a lie to the Minbari. "Don't change who you are..."

"I have done that already," she said somewhat sadly. "I know what I am asking." She took his face between her hands. It was still thin, with new hollows below his cheekbones from his recent ordeal. She could feel them under her thumbs, and it made her heart ache. She said, with a mix of desire and determination, "John, this is what I want. This is what I need."

"Are you certain?" He was still unsure. With distracting physical urgency, he knew what he wanted. But he was not sure what would be best, or right, in these circumstances. Still, as he looked into her eyes, he could see no doubt, no hesitation. She nodded her assent, and as he leaned down to capture her mouth in a kiss, time slowed once more. He heard her whisper just before their lips met, "You are all I need."

*************************************

As the hours wore on, Lennier kept vigil in Delenn's quarters. He had lit a candle to help him keep his focus on his meditation rather than letting his thoughts wander to places they should not go. The glowing color tubes behind him, arranged like flowers in a vase, sprayed pastel patterns on the ceiling, but he kept his eyes on the single dancing flame before him.

It was late, and he knew she wasn't coming back. He'd known it from the moment she'd left, but he was obliged to wait, and see if he could be of further service. Rising to his feet, stiff from staying in one position for so long, he looked about her quarters, as familiar to him as his own. Everything was in order; everything was as it should be. In the morning she would return, and nothing would ever be the same. Leaning over the low table, he pinched the flame between his fingers. He held the dying wick tightly for a long moment, letting the heat burn matching red channels into forefinger and thumb. The pain was a welcome distraction. He hoped she'd found what she'd been looking for, what she needed. He hoped she'd found a better place.

**Author's Note:**

> This begs to be re-written, and will be eventually, because I think Lennier's part in it is worth saving.


End file.
